


Survival, For Beginners

by manic_intent



Series: Old Friends, Old Problems [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Full spoilers for the game, M/M, No Jack Marston, Omegaverse, Spoilers, That Postcanon story that explores what comes after, alpha!Arthur Morgan, omega!John Marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: Disappointment and Arthur were close friends admittedly. Arthur tried to say something as he blinked weakly awake and managed only a low moan. Images were swimming in and out of his vision in a gold and red tint, like he was fast fading under amber.





	Survival, For Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> This story spoilers the whole game. 
> 
> S
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> P
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> O
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> I
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> L
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> E
> 
> R
> 
> Finally finished the game yesterday, epilogue and all! So many feels. What an incredible game.

Arthur Morgan was rather disappointed to realize that he wasn’t dead yet. He’d gone to all the trouble to say his goodbyes, chase John off at the ledge to save his life, and stage a last stand that had turned out more ignominious than glorious. Hell, Arthur had even talked to a goddamned nun before he’d set off to make as good an end as he could to a life badly lived. Couldn’t close a chapter in life with as much finality as that.

Disappointment and Arthur were close friends admittedly. Arthur tried to say something as he blinked weakly awake and managed only a low moan. Images were swimming in and out of his vision in a gold and red tint, like he was fast fading under amber. The world smelled kinda familiar. Beta feminine scents. He knew them both. And further away—

Arthur was vaguely aware of Charlotte saying, “Arthur? Arthur! Mister Marston! Arthur’s awake? I think.” 

“Thank the Lord.” Something cool was pressed to his forehead, and Arthur dimly registered John’s scent, bitter with anxiety. “Arthur. You’re gonna be all right. Stay with me, Arthur.” 

“Just let him sleep it off.” That was Sadie’s harsh drawl, further near the door. “After all the miracle tonics and herbs that we forced down his throat, if he ain’t dying now he won’t be dying for a while yet. He’s lucky I found him when I did.” 

“I should’ve gone back for him. He’s real beat up.” John’s anxiety was deepening. Muzzily, Arthur tried to reach for him and only managed another moan. “Hey, take it easy. Shh.” 

“Yeah, gone back and gotten shot. I barely snuck by Dutch on my way up as it is. You’d think someone with a bounty as big as his wouldn’t run around in a bright red vest. Good for drawing Pinkertons away, at least,” Sadie said. Arthur coughed wetly, choking until he was turned on his flank. Someone was wiping his mouth and he tried blindly to flail them away. “Might not be dying now but that don’t sound good.”

“We’ve got to leave. I know something about TB. He won’t get better here,” Charlotte said. 

“Thought he wouldn’t get better, period,” Sadie said, and sniffed. “Don’t look at me like that, John. Arthur knows it too. We all read through that journal of his for the diagnosis. And for the location of Charlotte's place.” 

“A friend of my husband’s got word to me through a telegram, a surgeon. There’s a sanatorium… of sorts. Further to the west. Called Sunfall. Past New Austin. I asked him about the disease after Arthur once collapsed in my house," Charlotte said. 

“Sanatorium? Ain’t that just a fancy place to die?” Sadie sounded skeptical. 

“There’s a chance of a cure. It’s a small hope, and we’re going to have to get there somehow. I mean, past all the lawmen looking for you folk,” Charlotte said. 

“Past New Austin? We’ll have to get past Blackwater,” John said grimly. “Shit. This sanatorium. What’s special about it?”

Charlotte hesitated for a while. “They’re working on a cure there. Very experimental. That’s all my friend could tell me. If we want to try it, I’ll ask him to send them a letter of recommendation. But you’re both right. It’s a slim chance.” 

“We’re going,” Sadie said, brisk. “Pack up. We’ll… I’ll go find us a wagon. John, you stay here and keep an eye out. Them Pinkertons are probably still watching the whole area.” 

“But…” John trailed off. He stroked Arthur’s arm. “All right. We’ll go. Miss Charlotte, thanks. For all your help.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Thank me when we get there.”

“‘We’?” Sadie repeated. “Miss, we really appreciate your help, but—”

“But nothing. I would’ve died if not for Arthur and I like repaying my debts. I’ve got money here and I can get more sent to me. Some new dresses, some fine horses, and we’ll have our disguise,” Charlotte said confidently. “Just let me do the talking.” 

“Don’t,” Arthur muttered. He tried to breathe and started hacking instead, choking. _Leave me to die_ , he wanted to say, but the images were fading, fading fast. He slept.

#

“We’re gonna need to get our stories straight,” Sadie said as John carefully settled Arthur in the back of the wagon. She glanced back over her shoulder as Arthur shook into one of his terrible wet coughing fits, but it didn’t even wake him. Poor bastard.

“Stories?” Charlotte asked. She was tucking a few bags and blankets around Arthur in the wagon. 

“We’re a funny looking bunch. Couple of beta women and a mated alpha-omega pair. We’re gonna stand out,” Sadie said. She was wearing one of Charlotte’s borrowed dresses, and it was loose down the front and tight at the hips. Whatever it was made of, it was a finer dress than anything Sadie had ever owned. Even if Charlotte had apologetically said it was the plainest dress she owned. “Maybe we’re sisters trying to get our sick uncle some help?”

“Oh, that.” Charlotte smiled. “We’ll never pass as a traveling family. Not to be rude, but. Accents are a dead giveaway, and ours don’t match.”

That was true. The elevation of Charlotte’s birth was obvious in her accent and bearing. Fine manners. Sadie hadn’t ever learned the like. Even before, when she’d followed the love of her life north to live out nowhere on a mountain. “So what do we do?” John asked. 

“If Arthur stays quiet for the whole trip I suppose he can be my dear, very ill brother-in-law,” Charlotte said, as she got into the wagon beside Arthur. “The two of you can be our retainers. Servants,” she clarified, when John shot her a blank look. “John, you’d have to wear a scarf or a bandana to hide your mark. And you’d have to drive.”

“Okay.” John finished tucking Arthur in. He hesitated, bent against Arthur’s pale face, but stroked Arthur’s shoulder instead and climbed to the front of the wagon. He looked funny in borrowed clothes too—Charlotte’s late husband had been taller than John, and skinnier. No way the clothes could fit Arthur, so Arthur was just traveling stripped down under furs, his gear stowed in a ladies’ luggage bag. 

“Better head out now.” Sadie passed John the reins. “While there’s still light.” 

“Remember. Stay calm and let me do the talking,” Charlotte said firmly. Sadie shot a last regretful look over her shoulder at her horse—it was going to look too weird traveling with loose horses following the wagon—and turned to watch the road as John flicked the reins. 

“We could take the train at Annesburg down to Strawberry,” John suggested as he drove. “That’d be faster.”

“Pinkertons are gonna be watching the trains. Best we don’t,” Sadie said. She shook her head. “Annesburg’s sure to be crawling with them right now. After Dutch went and shot goddamned Cornwall in the head right on its docks.” 

“Cornwall? As in Leviticus Cornwall?” Charlotte asked a little faintly. “Goodness.”

“Why, you know him?” John glanced briefly over his shoulder. 

“My husband’s family did some business with him. He’s a vindictive, powerful man. Was. Big and long-standing client of the Pinkertons. They’d want vengeance for his death,” Charlotte said softly. “They’ll never stop hunting any of you for that. Probably do it for free, though I’d bet good money that Cornwall’s widow will keep paying them for it. His life insurance alone would probably pay for it.” 

“Yeah, I figured that much,” John said wearily. “Everything went from bad to worse since Blackwater. I didn’t want to see it but when Dutch left me to die in Saint Denis, I couldn’t help but see it. Arthur didn’t want to believe it.”

“Think he did,” Sadie said. Arthur had started not-so-quietly making plans for everyone to go their separate ways since Saint Denis. “He had plans for everyone to get out. You especially.”

John looked back briefly over his shoulder at Arthur. “Hope everyone did get out. Tilly, Mary-Beth… hell, I hope even Uncle got out.” 

“Sorry to cut in,” Charlotte said earnestly, “but the three of you are probably going to need new names. Ones that you can remember. Maybe not John. John’s a common enough name.” 

“I’ll be Beth McKenna,” Sadie said, after a pause. “That was my mum’s choice of a name for me, but my grandfather got the last say. McKenna’s my mum’s surname.”

“I guess I’ll be Jim? James? James Milton?” John said doubtfully.

Sadie sniffed. “I don’t think I can trust you to keep that straight. Naw. You’re best as a John. John McKenna, how ‘bout that. We can be brother and sister.”

“Sure. Miss Charlotte?” John asked.

“Oh no, I’m keeping my name. My—and my husband’s—names have some little weight in the north. Maybe it’d help here too.” Charlotte hesitated for a long moment. “I’ll tell you about my family. That way you’d both have some context if you get questioned. And it’ll help us all keep our minds off things—” Charlotte stopped as Arthur shook into another hoarse cough. “Poor man.” 

“You really think the sanatorium’s gonna…” John trailed off. “Nah. We gotta try.”

#

Waking up felt like Arthur was trying to swim against the current, through fever dreams of grazing deer. He wished he’d maybe talked to Rains Fall about that, but they hadn’t had the time and it’d seemed trivial at the time. Recurring dreams of a prey-creature waiting for death in the sun, something like that. Lord knew Arthur had killed plenty of deer over his lifetime. Hadn’t always been clean neither.

As he tried to push free of the suffocating warmth over him he could hear chatter somewhere to the right. Laughter. A campfire. Arthur let out a grunt as he tried to haul himself up and the laughter stopped. Someone climbed over to him and tried to hold him down, ignoring Arthur’s flailing. “Hey. Arthur. Just rest up, okay? Rest up. You hungry?” 

Arthur hadn’t been hungry for a long time. He nodded anyway, and let John sit him up against the side of a wagon. It was night out, and they were camped off the road near a flat plain. “We outside Rhodes?” Arthur guessed.

“Yeah,” John said, turning to the fire and gesturing. Sadie peeked over the side of the wagon, followed by Charlotte, who passed John a steaming bowl. It was some sort of stew, bland compared to Pearson’s. Arthur forced it down anyway in between hacking coughs. 

“How’re you feeling?” Charlotte asked as she took the bowl from him.

“Great,” Arthur lied. 

“Yeah well, you look like shit,” Sadie said, blunt as ever, “but you’re still alive and that’s something I guess. You’ve got a fever and infection from minor gunshot wounds. On top of everything. Think you cracked at least a couple of ribs too.” 

“Here.” John helped Arthur drink some tonic and swallow more of Rains Fall’s herb concoction. The chest pain eased a little, though it still hurt when Arthur turned over the side of the wagon to cough. 

“We should really split up,” Arthur said, once he got his breath back. “Why is Miss Charlotte even here?”

“We’re bringing you to a doctor past New Austin,” Charlotte said, leaning back over the wagon again. 

“New Austin? We’ll never make it. That’s past Blackwater. You people should… just leave me, I’m dying anyway. Ain’t no fixing that but. Three of you still got lives to live,” Arthur said, in between coughs and pauses for breath. 

“Far as I’m concerned, none of us would’ve had ‘lives to live’ but for you,” Sadie said firmly. Charlotte nodded. “This is what I want to do with mine. Saving your grumpy, sickly ass for once.” She glowered at Arthur until he rubbed a palm over his face and looked away.

“How’d we even get out of Roanoke?” Arthur asked. 

“The Pinkertons were busy chasing Dutch and the others, I think,” John said. He looked over at Charlotte. “We got stopped once, but Miss Charlotte—”

“Just ‘Charlotte’, please,” Charlotte said, with a quick smile. 

“Well uh, Charlotte talked them down. Was quite a thing to see,” John said admiringly. 

“I think that young one in the round hat just about wet his pants when you asked him if he knew who you is,” Sadie said, grinning. She mimed stepping back, wide-eyed. “Oh, Lady Balfour, I didn’t know you had business so far south.” Sadie straightened up, arms akimbo, mimicking Charlotte’s smooth accent. “And what business is my business to you, young man! My family and my husband’s family have long had accounts with the Pinkertons and we’ve been satisfied with your service so far. Don’t make me revise that opinion.” Sadie collapsed into giggles. 

Charlotte blushed. “I just channeled my Aunt Agatha. She had quite a temper.” 

“We might have been followed,” Arthur said, rubbing his temple. “This is pretty goddamned reckless.” 

“Sure we’re being followed,” John said, with a faint nod towards distant hills. “But we don’t have a choice.” 

Arthur stared at him tiredly. “I hate it when you say that. Everyone always has a choice. For everything. You should’ve left me on the mountain.”

John scowled. Sadie nudged Charlotte and they retreated to the fire, ostensibly to check on the stew. John sat down beside Arthur on the blankets and snuggled closer when Arthur tried to flinch back. “I don’t want to do this without you,” John said.

“‘This’?” 

“Yeah. All this.” John made a vague gesture at the world. “Besides,” John lowered his voice, “you said you wanted to give me a pup.” 

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “That was before. Hell, I’m just glad I don’t seem to have spread what I’ve got to any of you as it is. Especially you. Given what we used to do at close quarters.” 

“TB doesn’t get spread through sex. That’s what Charlotte said. She picked up a letter from a friend of her late husband’s in Rhodes. Just. Through the coughing.” John leaned against Arthur’s shoulder, breathing evenly. Arthur could feel his body instinctively trying to match it, to calm down. 

“You people talked about _sex_?” Arthur tried to imagine Charlotte discussing such a topic and his imagination failed. Charlotte, who’d instinctively shied away from trying to skin a rabbit. Who’d had a feud with a muskrat that she hadn’t had the heart or ability to kill by herself. 

“She and Sadie were talking. Me, I just drive the wagon.” John glanced up, puzzled. “Why? Women do it all the time. Talk about it. Mary-Beth, Karen, Abigail, even Tilly, they’d share these pretty unbelievable stories about the people they’d slept with. Maybe not in front of you. Or Dutch. They don't mind me much though.”

“Yeah, uh. Right.” Arthur coughed. “Sure. Look, John. This is pretty dangerous what we’re doing.” 

“Our whole life’s been that way. If it ever stops, maybe I’ll miss it,” John said. He squeezed Arthur’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I shouldn’t even have let you chase me off that mountain.” 

Arthur shuddered. “Micah would’ve killed you. Or Dutch.” 

“Or I might’ve killed them both and you wouldn’t have had to cop such a beating,” John muttered. “Anyway, I ain’t leaving you again. You should just concentrate on getting better.”

“What happened to the others? Did they get out?” Arthur asked. 

“Don’t know. Sadie said Abigail and Tilly made it out fine. Not sure about the others,” John said.

“Everyone’s had a rough time of it.” At least Abigail seemed none the worse for wear after having been repeatedly kidnapped over the last few weeks. First along with Mary-Beth by the Braithwaites. Then by the Pinkertons. The fact that she was unshaken didn’t quite surprise Arthur. Almost everyone who’d run with Dutch and lasted had nerves of steel. 

Dutch.

“What about Dutch?” Arthur asked, as casually as he could. John glanced up at him, unreadable. 

“Sadie says he probably got away,” John said, after a pause. “Why?” 

“Just asking.” 

“You sound relieved,” John said accusingly. “What the hell, Arthur. He left me for dead. Twice. Left you for dead that one time that got Eagle Flies killed. He—”

“He’s still the only father to me that mattered. Him and Hosea. Can’t rightly just let that go. Hell knows I’ve tried.” Arthur stared up at the empty sky. 

“Hell of a father.” John curled his lip. 

“There’s been enough death. ‘Sides, part of me never believed any of us would ever get out. Didn’t think we’d ever find somewhere where all of us can live happily ever after. I thought if I could just get some of us out safely, I’d die happy. And yet…” Arthur trailed off.

“Yet what?” 

Arthur pulled John against him, his arm curled around John’s waist as he nuzzled John’s throat, right over the claiming bite. He’d never imagined himself surviving his last stand, but if he had to, this was a better outcome than he deserved. “Guess I’m still a selfish bastard.”

#

Getting past Blackwater was a tense affair—at least for John. Arthur slept right through it, thankfully. Sadie had no context for Blackwater so she hadn’t been bothered. Hell, they’d even stopped right in town to buy supplies from the general store. John had stayed in the wagon under a wide-brimmed hat, hoping he wasn’t giving it all away by being so nervy.

He’d nearly flinched when someone had emerged from the sheriff’s office. A deputy of sorts. The deputy walked right over to the wagon, tipping his hat at Charlotte. “Hello there, miss,” he said. 

Charlotte eyed the deputy with a steely stare. “That’s _Lady_ Balfour to you, my good man,” she said, radiating disdain. “Yes?” 

The deputy was a big man, nearly as tall as Arthur, but he quailed a little under her stare. “Begging your pardon ma’am, but we’ve been having some trouble ‘round hereabouts. Bandits and such. Don’t want to alarm you. The sheriff, we’ve got a policy of checking on every newcomer in town. Just in case.” 

“And you thought I looked like a bandit?” Charlotte demanded, incredulous. “Where is this sheriff of yours, sir? I’ll like to have a word with him.” She started to get down from the wagon. “Mister McKenna, stay there. Keep an eye on my dear brother for me.” She marched right over to the sheriff’s office, trailing a weakly protesting deputy behind her. 

Sadie quietly emerged from the general store. John stacked the supplies she bought in the wagon. “Trouble?” Sadie asked. 

“Don’t rightly know. Keep an eye out.”

Sadie casually shifted the box with her holster closer to her as she got onto the back of the wagon. “Any trouble, I’ll go and get Charlotte. You just get the wagon out. We’ll regroup outside.”

John nodded. Charlotte was a long time gone. Just as Sadie started muttering under her breath and getting antsy, she emerged from the sheriff’s office, trailing a whiskered man who looked like the sheriff and a couple of sheepish-looking deputies. Sadie gripped the edge of her box as Charlotte approached the wagon. The sheriff scooted over to help her up.

“As I was saying, Lady Balfour, I’m real sorry about all the fuss. Security, you know, security,” the sheriff said with an ingratiating smile. 

“Quite all right. I suppose you’re rightly to be commended for trying to make Blackwater safer for everyone,” Charlotte said generously. “Though, I say. It’s a bit much isn’t it? Blanketing the country in lawmen and Pinkertons. Hassling honest folk.” 

“I’d have my men ride with you out of town. Put you on the right road to the sanatorium,” the sheriff said. John hid his surprise by tipping down his hat. “They’d explain things should you get stopped on the way.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Mister Dillon,” Charlotte said. She looked completely untroubled, as though sheriffs offering escorts out of town was entirely normal to her. 

“Consider it an apology for our rudeness. Jake? Isaac? Escort the lady out over to Beaver’s Creek and send her on her way. I hope Lord Balfour gets better, Lady Balfour.”

“One can only hope,” Charlotte said, with an imperious nod. John barely listened to the deputies’ fawning attempts at conversation as he drove the wagon out. It felt like the longest trip of his life, willing Arthur to stay asleep or at least quiet in the back. He was conscious of the pump action shotgun in the case by his feet, of how quiet Sadie was right behind him. Charlotte talked, icy at first then growing marginally friendlier as they went.

The deputies left them half an hour out from Blackwater, and Charlotte graciously waved them away as they refused a tip. Once they were out of sight, John let out a long, harsh breath. “The hell was that about?” 

“In case we’re still being followed by Pinkertons,” Charlotte said. She smiled warmly. “That was rather exciting, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t think I’ve been that close to the law before without getting cuffed or shot,” John said, blinking. 

Charlotte patted his knee. “Think of it as a valuable new life experience.” 

“Big risk,” Arthur said quietly from the wagon. 

“One that didn’t end up with us having to shoot our way out of town is a risk that I like,” Sadie said. She pointedly tucked Arthur in. “How ‘bout you take another nap, _Lord_ Balfour.” She sniggered. 

“I used to think your life had to be very exciting,” Charlotte said as Arthur glared at Sadie. “Being able to ride wherever you like, living easily any way that you liked.”

“Ain’t easily,” Arthur said, after a long pause. He turned away, coughing. “It’s an ugly life. Ain’t nothing to envy neither.” John offered no elaboration, and Sadie looked away. They trundled on in silence.

#

“‘Tacitus’, really?” Charlotte whispered, as the receptionist bustled away out of the waiting room.

“What? You said we ain’t using real names,” Arthur whispered back. Sunfall wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d imagined a huge version of the various surgeries and clinics he’d been in and out of over the years, maybe cleaner, with more doctors. This sanatorium hidden past a forest on the shores of a small lake was more like a rambling mansion with a sprawling garden, grander than the Braithwaites’. Years back, if they’d clapped eyes on it, Hosea would’ve probably moseyed in to scope it out. Sniff around, see if it was worth robbing.

Hosea. A knot of pain tightened in his chest. Arthur looked away, barely listening as Charlotte said, “Yes, well, I did, but ‘Tacitus’ is rather a… well. Grandiose name, isn’t it?”

“I’m meant to be your husband’s equally rich but somehow not very educated brother.” Arthur shrugged. “Maybe the name damaged me early on or something.” He tried not to look around for John or feel too tense. John and Sadie were waiting outside in the wagon. Lord, Arthur hoped they hadn’t trailed Pinkertons all the way here. He was a little better but he still felt weak as a kitten. If they had to fight their way out of here, Charlotte would probably be a better shot than Arthur was right now. 

Charlotte pursed her lips, but before she could say anything the receptionist bustled back in, followed by a stout beta man with round spectacles and a pale coat. He swept them with a keen stare, smiled briskly, and walked over. “Good day, good day. Lady Balfour, was it? And Lord Balfour? I’m Doctor Byler. Welcome to Sunfall. This way, this way.” He talked like he hadn’t the time to spit the words, already turning on his heels without waiting to see if they could follow. 

Arthur waved off Charlotte’s attempts to help him up. Stumbling he could do. He was a little dizzy by the time Byler took a right turn into an office. Arthur settled into a patient’s chair with relief that he couldn’t hide as Byler rolled over a set of steel implements. He gloved up and checked Arthur over, occasionally asking questions. Finally, he nodded and set the gloves and implements aside. 

“It’s an advanced case, I’m afraid,” Byler said, brisk as ever. “Forgive my bluntness, Lord Balfour, but it’s a small miracle that you’re even here. Done a lot of hard living recently, have we?” 

Arthur frowned. Charlotte touched his arm and smiled brightly. “My brother-in-law fancies himself quite an outdoorsman, Doctor Byler. And I’m afraid that he’s never been one to shy away from the harsh realities of life on the frontier.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” Byler said, very dryly. “To be honest, I’m not a general practitioner or a surgeon. I’m a pathologist. I was a student of Doctor Virchow, along with Doctor Cohen. Your husband’s friend, I believe. Without him prevailing on me I’m afraid to say I would’ve declined to see you.” 

“You’re not a doctor?” Arthur tried not to scowl. “This was a wasted trip?”

Byler sighed. “I _am_ a doctor, sir. Just not the sort waiting in little surgeries in nowhere towns who spend their days stitching up knife wounds and digging out bullets. I presume those are the sort of doctors you’d be more used to.” 

“He’s had a hard life,” Charlotte said, with a perfectly straight face. Arthur was impressed. Charlotte could spin flannel as well as Hosea. “Can you do anything for dear Tacitus at all? Please. My family would be pleased to consider a contribution in kind to this fine sanatorium.” 

“I don’t need the money,” Byler said, with a sharp smile. “We have federal dispensation. Not as much as I’d like, but there are a few private donors as well, enough of them. Tuberculosis is rather indiscriminate, concerning the rich and poor alike. But I suppose I do need specimens.”

“Specimens?” Arthur asked sharply, before Charlotte could say anything.

“Well yes. It’s useful for us to study the advent of the disease in patients of varying… backgrounds,” Byler said. “We don’t, for example, have any alpha patients right now.” 

“So you want me to stay here and die while you take notes?” 

“Notes will be taken and there’s definitely still a high chance of dying, but it looks like you were a healthy individual before your illness, which might help,” Byler said mildly. “And, as you imagine, we’re not an ordinary sanatorium. We don’t prescribe to the fresh-air-and-it’ll-go-away theory. We’re here to find a cure. Which means. Human test subjects.” 

“Great,” Arthur said flatly. “What’s the success rate?” 

“So far? It hasn’t been particularly reassuring. We’ve had patients improve on some regimens, only for the disease to develop a resistance. Or for side-effects to develop. Suffice to say,” Byler said, looking Arthur over, “your days of ‘hard living’ are over. Lord Balfour.”

“Would you have room for guests?” Charlotte asked. “I’d be far too worried about dear Tacitus to just leave him here. At least, not for a time.”

“Of course. We have living quarters on the premises for both staff and guests. They won’t be what you’d be used to I’m afraid, they’re rather more functional than luxurious,” Byler said. 

“Could I have a word with my sister-in-law?” Arthur grit out. Byler nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Arthur rubbed a palm slowly over his face. “He’s gonna go get the Pinkertons,” Arthur said quietly.

“I very much doubt that,” Charlotte said, patting his arm. “He has no reason to. And besides, haven’t you noticed something interesting about this place?”

“You mean, the fact that it’s in the middle of nowhere and run by a crazy doctor who ain’t a doctor?”

“Exactly. It’s in the middle of nowhere. Sanatoriums for the wealthy tend to be in the mountains. Clean mountain air, that kind of thing.”

“So we could’ve stayed at your house,” Arthur said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Probably not. The Pinkertons would’ve chanced on it sooner or later. The fact that this place is far from the closest town is interesting. Federal funding, too.”

“Decent security,” Arthur said. They’d been met at the gate by armed guards, who’d escorted them in only after an express OK from the sanatorium. Charlotte brandishing her telegram and dropping names hadn’t worked. “I don’t know. This stinks. I never even heard of… whatever he said he was. Patholo-whatever.” 

“I have. But.” Charlotte softened her tone. “If you’re really not comfortable about doing this? We can leave. It’s up to you. I’ll think of something.” 

Arthur looked around the room. It unsettled him because it was so stark. No framed degrees, nothing. It was completely functional. Why the hell not. Assuming Byler wasn’t right outside writing letters to the Pinkertons, they’d all be safe in here. It was a decent enough place to lie low for a bit. And if he could actually get better? Or die a little easier? Why the hell not. 

“Fine,” Arthur said, “but we keep our guns close and the wagon packed.”

#

Life in Sunfall was pretty slow. Bit of a weird letdown after everything Sadie had done since Dutch had taken her in. Sure, living in the camp hadn’t been great neither—she’d been Pearson’s kitchen hand for ages until she’d finally lost it and proven herself. After she’d started taking turns at hunting and keeping watch, the gang had left her alone to do whatever she wanted in the rest of her time. Hadn’t taken long for Sadie to upgrade from shooting deer to shooting O’Driscolls.

She’d thought she would miss her husband more powerfully. These days though, the hurt was deadened. Since before she’d watched Colm O’Driscoll hang for what he and his gang had done to her life. There was only rage behind it. Arthur had called her a ghost, same as he was. Sadie understood that. They were dead already, dead people who only still breathed out of sheer stubbornness and bad luck. 

Security in the sanatorium was tight, but Sadie and the others weren’t prisoners. It was pretty clear to everyone that Doctor Byler didn’t buy the ‘Lady Balfour and her retainers’ flannel that he’d been fed but had agreed to treat Arthur anyway. If treating was what they was doing. Sadie wasn’t rightly sure. Arthur had been fed a tonic only yesterday that got him throwing up his guts through the night. 

“You’re being real quiet,” John said. Sadie had dragged him out riding with her, if only to stop him from climbing the walls out of sheer worry/boredom/anxiety. She’d seen what happened when the Van der Linde boys got bored. 

“Just thinking how it’s a funny world,” Sadie said. They were meant to be out hunting, having promised the sanatorium’s cook that they’d bring in some fresh venison. No deer out hereabouts though, and they’d been riding for nearly an hour. 

“How so?” John lowered his binoculars.

“I do believe this is the first time I’ve actually been ‘lying low’ since I joined up with Dutch,” Sadie said. She grinned sharply as John let out a startled laugh.

“And I do believe you’re right. What a goddamned mess all that was.” 

“Well, other than the period I spent arranging for everyone to hide out in the swamp. While we tried to find you and waited for all them strong, strapping alpha men to get back from their tropical vacation,” Sadie drawled. John chuckled. 

“Sometimes I ain’t too sure that you ain’t an alpha yourself, Miss Adler. Abigail said you ran the gang fine in Dutch’s absence. Even with Charles there.” 

“Charles probably would’ve done fine. He hid out by himself for a bit and only looked for us when he was sure he’d lost the Pinkertons. By that time I guess everyone was already used to me being in charge and he didn’t feel the need to rock the boat.” Sadie sniffed. “He also didn’t lead them Pinkertons back to us like Arthur and the others. Bloody alphas. Don’t know why you tolerate them.” 

“Some of them are worth it.” 

“Don’t look at me. Think there’s a right reason why God made it such that only men can be alphas. My husband was a beta.” Sadie pursed her lips. “Say, I always been curious. Can I ask you a maybe personal question?”

“Sure.” John raised the binoculars again. 

“Alphas… knot, right? When they do the deed. Does it hurt? A lot?” 

John yelped and started coughing, nearly dropping the binoculars. “ _Sadie_.”

“What? I’m curious,” Sadie said. John was reddening slowly to the ears, past the scars on his cheek. “I mean, you sure as hell sound like you enjoy it. When it’s Arthur anyway. But ain’t it pretty big? Tilly said it can get to the size of a fist. Said she don’t find it comfortable unless she’s ‘prepared’. Abigail said she had a friend, an omega female whore who’d said—”

“Okay, okay,” John said hastily, avoiding her eyes. “Yes, it can feel good, all right? Omegas are built a little differently I guess? Can we never talk about this again?” 

“If you like,” Sadie said, grinning. “Why, you’re red all over, John Marston. You know. Poor Miss O’Shea, she was goddamned jealous of you.”

“I know,” John said unhappily. “She’s always been. I mean, I didn’t even get it. Dutch slept with her more often than he did with me. But I didn’t blame her. Tried to stay out of her way. Turns out she wasn’t the one who ratted on us?”

“That’s what Agent Milton said.” Poor Molly. 

“Why’d you think she lied? To Dutch? Said she’d done it? She must’ve known he’d kill her. If not him, then one of the rest of us.”

“I think,” Sadie said reflectively, “that she was so heartsick with love that she’d rather take Dutch’s hatred over Dutch’s indifference. That’s what I think.” 

“She treated Kieran fine.” 

“She didn’t see Kieran as a threat.” 

John snorted. “Yeah, like I was. I’m Arthur’s.” 

Sadie shot John a sidelong look, but John was already scanning the horizon with his binoculars again. “Funny thing, that.”

“Why?”

“You and Arthur.”

“What about me and Arthur?” John glanced at her. 

“I always thought it was kinda weird. That whole ‘pack harmony’ arrangement,” Sadie said. She checked the horizon with her own binoculars. Not promising. 

“Yeah, well. Kinda glad that’s over. Even in the circumstances. I liked Charles fine enough. And Dutch, before things went to hell and we saw him for what he was. Javier was OK. But Bill?” John shuddered. “Suppose I should be grateful Micah isn’t an alpha.” 

“There is that. Surprised Arthur didn’t mind.” 

“Arthur grew up kinda accepting Dutch’s word as the word of God, pretty much. Wasn’t until Blackwater that his faith got shaken.” 

“What about you? You left the gang for a year,” Sadie said. She’d heard the others mention it now and then, but not even the women had been willing to gossip. Dutch’s orders, apparently.

John set his jaw. “I guess I wasn’t inclined to think too fondly of anyone who thought my body could be shared around the camp like a resource. Even if it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought. And got me something I wanted.” John patted the back of his neck absently. “Hey, is that movement over there? Think we finally got lucky.”

“Hold that thought.”

#

“Hey.” John sat down beside Arthur. They leaned against a big tree, close to the part of the compound that opened out to a lake. It was a bit too sunny in the day for the other patients to be out and about. Just the way Arthur liked it. Some quiet, balm for the ugly headache he’d been nursing for weeks. And the lake was pretty. “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur didn’t stop sketching the lake.

Undeterred by Arthur’s irritation, John said, “You really like to draw.”

“No, Marston, I fill up a journal like this every few months even though I hate it.” 

John sighed. “Okay.” He settled down, careful not to touch Arthur. Couldn’t have the ‘retainer’ look too friendly with ‘Lord Balfour’. Even though Arthur was pretty sure nobody in Sunfall believed Arthur was really some blue-blooded descendant of an Earl. Or whatever Charlotte’s husband was.

“What do you want?” Arthur kept his voice deliberately flat.

“Just checking in. Sadie and Charlotte went riding.” 

“That a good idea?” Arthur glanced up.

“Probably not. I offered to go along too but they said they was fine.” 

“Well, you should of insisted. Two women out riding by themselves in quiet parts like this? They’re gonna get into trouble.” Even if Sadie was a real firecracker. 

“Sadie borrowed one of Charlotte’s husband’s coats and a big hat. She looks like a man from far off. They’ll be fine.” John studied Arthur carefully. “You’ve been coughing less, I think.”

“When I’m not vomiting, sure.” 

“So.” John squirmed a little, his hands twisting in his lap. “You ain’t getting better?”

“I don’t know if I’m getting better. Byler likes to go on about how I should be dead already whenever he checks on me. That doctor has no goddamned bedside manners,” Arthur grumbled. 

“Byler’s more of a scientist than a _doctor_ -doctor, Charlotte said. I guess at least you’re finally getting some rest. And not being shot at.” 

“Obviously.”

John exhaled. “So what did I do this time? To piss you off?”

“Nothing.” 

“Yeah? You’ve been acting real funny since you came back from Guarma.” John stared Arthur down. That was one thing that was easy for Arthur to forget about John. As much as John often gave way to him—and to Dutch—he was much his own person as anyone else, and as stubborn as the worst of them when it got to it. 

“You mean, when I found out I was dying? Sure. I’m afraid, all right?” Arthur said, before John could open his mouth. “Dying like this.” He gestured at his face. “Getting gunned down, or eaten by a cougar, shit like that I’m fine with. Nothing I ain’t seen anyway. But wasting away slowly until I drown in my own blood?” Arthur stared down at his journal. “Look at me. Big damn outlaw. Scared of dying ugly.” 

“Who here ain’t scared of dying?” 

“Sadie.” 

“That’s different,” John said. He reached over and tentatively pressed his hand on Arthur’s knee. 

“Different how?”

“She’s got a death wish is what’s different. I saw it. You had to run out after her. When the O’Driscolls came for us at Shady Belle. She was charging them without bothering to take cover. And that sound she was making? My God.” 

Arthur nodded. What had come out of Sadie Adler’s petite frame had been a terrible war cry, a roar of blind rage. It’d made his hair stand listening to it. It’d definitely shaken the O’Driscolls who’d been its target. “She’s something else.” 

“That’s exactly what I said. She’s different.” John petted Arthur’s knee. “I think it’s okay to be scared. Hell, all the other patients in here are. Funny as some of them is.” 

“Notice something about them?” Arthur asked. 

John nodded slowly. “Pretty sure they’re all inmates. That’s why the security is the way it is and you’ve got a room away from the rest.” 

Arthur grunted. “Experiments.” 

“Why? You think this place ain’t actually looking for a cure?”

“Oh, it is, I’m pretty sure about that.” Arthur started sketching again. “But I don’t think Byler cares whether his subjects survive the scientific process.” 

John set his jaw. “I could talk to him.” 

“What, threaten him? Push him around? Byler ain’t easily pushed. And what good would it do? Besides. This is fine. I seen better people than me die of what I’ve got. Maybe this is the last thing I can do.” He could do this for Mrs Downes. She’d shot him a look of hatred just as she closed her door to him and her latest client. Even after all Arthur had done to try and fix that. He still saw the moment in his dreams sometimes.

“Do?” 

“Drink their medicines and let them mess with my blood.” Arthur shrugged. “If they can find a cure? I don’t mind dying for them to get there, I guess. At least it’d be for something.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re gonna get through this,” John said in a low, firm voice. “You hear me Arthur? You will.”

#

“He’ll live,” Byler said, stripping off his gloves.

“Yeah?” John snarled. “Before or after he finally vomits out his stomach?” The air in the room stank, even with the windows wide open. Arthur was unconscious on the bed, sedated and sweating. Far more pale than he should be. 

Charlotte got a careful grip on John’s shoulder. “The reaction to the latest dose of medicine seems rather… drastic,” she said.

“He had an allergic reaction,” Byler said, as nurses filed in to remove the medical equipment and start scrubbing the floor. He waited for them to finish and file out before adding, “It’s good that he pulled through.”

“ _Good_?” John started forward, hands clenched. Charlotte hung on to him.

“Calm yourself. Mister McKenna, was it?” Byler eyed John with disapproval. “It’s all part of the process.” 

“The process of seeing whether you poison Ar—poison Tacitus here first or if he dies from TB first?” John demanded. 

“It could be said that a great deal of medicine is in a way a form of controlled poisoning,” Byler said, with a curl to his mouth. “He’ll pull through. We’ll start him on something different once he’s a little stronger. But feel free to leave Sunfall with him at any time should you prefer to subject him to treatment elsewhere.”

John grit his teeth. Just as he was considering yanking out of Charlotte’s grip and breaking Byler’s nose, a nurse popped her head into the room. “Doctor? We’ve got visitors.”

“Who is it now?” Byler asked, sour-faced. 

“A pair of men. They say they’re Pinkertons.” 

John stiffened, even as Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth. Sadie… Sadie was still out hunting. John’s guns were in the wagon in the stables. The horses weren’t even hitched up to the wagon. Sloppy. He wouldn’t get Arthur there in time and if he had to shoot them out of here—

Byler shot them all a glance, then looked back over at the nurse. “I’ll go and see what they want.” 

“I’m afraid they’ve been quite insistent. They’re right down the corridor,” the nurse said, her face pinched with irritation. “I wasn’t sure if we should cause a scene. I told them this was a federal facility.”

“Right.” Byler waved her out and walked out of the door, closing it behind him before John could get in a word. John peeked through the windows carefully. No Pinkertons in sight. They were a couple of floors up though. A problem. 

“What do we do?” Charlotte whispered. 

“I don’t know,” John admitted helplessly. 

Outside, Byler said, “What is the meaning of this, then? This is a federal research facility.”

“I’m Agent Mills, and this is Agent Sinclair. We’re from the Pinkerton Agency,” said a gruff voice. 

“I don’t care who you are. This is outrageous.” 

“We have a standing warrant for a dangerous criminal,” Mills said, “and we believe that he’s on the premises.”

“A criminal? Which one?” Byler asked, exasperated. At Mills’ silence, Byler said, “Well, what did you think this facility was doing? Testing cures on the commonfolk? Of course we use inmates. Well? Which one of them did you want? I’d warn you though, they’re all highly infectious.” 

“I…” Mills sounded nonplussed, but only for a moment. “He might have been brought here by a well-dressed woman, a man with a scarred face, and a woman in man’s clothing. He’d likely have used a fake name—” 

“Oh, that one. Tacitus something or other, was it?” Byler said. John started to edge towards the window. Nothing to it. They’d want Arthur alive. If he could get out with Charlotte, they could find Sadie and—

“That’s one of his known aliases, yes.” A lighter baritone. Probably Agent Sinclair.

“Well yes, they did get here. Tacitus, or whoever he was, was extremely ill. Late stages of tuberculosis. Wasn’t a pretty sight. Already drowning in his own blood. Gunshot wounds and broken ribs didn’t help,” Byler said briskly.

“‘Was’?” Sinclair said.

“Do I need to repeat myself? Was. If you’d like to see where we dispose of the bodies after autopsies, I can take you there myself. It’s a big furnace, nothing very exciting.” Byler sounded impatient. “If you want to search the facility, feel free. Just know that you’re starting to try my patience, and your visit will be broadly detailed in my next report to Washington.” 

There was a long silence. “What about his companions?” Mills asked. 

“How should I know? I wasn’t interested in them. Are we finished here?” Byler asked flatly. “And by the way, you’d both need to disinfect yourselves soon. Preferably with a hot bath. And burn your clothes.” 

“I… yes thank you sir. Sorry about the intrusion.” Mills and Sinclair left hastily, judging from the patter of footsteps. 

There was a long pause, then Byler let himself back into the room. He stared at John and Charlotte. “If you’re both going to throw yourselves out of the window, I’m going to tell you right now that I find setting compound fractures extremely tedious.” 

“Thanks…?” John said warily. “For lying on our behalf?”

Byler sniffed. “I didn’t lie to them. I just let them draw their own conclusions from what I said. It’s true, by the way, that ’Tacitus’ here isn’t as ill as he was when he first got here. Though I suppose proper nutrition and rest do have their benefits overall.” 

“Thank you,” Charlotte said. She smiled and clasped Byler briefly by his hands. “Thank you, Doctor.” 

Byler waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me, thank the fact that I have no other alpha specimens easily at hand. Now if you’d excuse me, I have some security personnel to reprimand.” 

John waited until Byler left the room before sinking against the wall with a loud breath. Charlotte sat heavily down into a chair. “That was close,” she said.

“Hell, you don’t know the half of it.”

#

“You look like you’re gonna cry,” Sadie said. She smirked as Arthur rolled his eyes. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he’d missed being on horseback the way he didn’t think he ever would. The horse he was on was Charlotte’s, a docile Standardbred mare called Athena.

“Shut up,” Arthur said. He started to take Athena on a slow circuit of the compound. John was perched on a barrel with Charlotte beside him and Sadie leaning against the wall. Beside them, Byler looked disapproving.

“I didn’t finally concoct a potentially successful remedy for ‘Tacitus’ here only for him to break his neck riding when he should be resting,” Byler said sourly.

“I won’t fall off a horse,” Arthur said. He was smiling and he couldn’t help it. God. It felt like something was coming loose from its vice-grip on his back, where it’d been squeezing down and squeezing down. Felt like he could breathe again. 

“I don’t know, Tacitus. I’ve seen you run into trees by accident on horseback,” Sadie said with a sly grin.

“Probably because I was trying to shoot straight to save our lives. See if I’d do that again,” Arthur shot back. 

“Try to rest at some point. If it’s not too much to ask.” Byler consulted his pocket watch and wandered off, muttering under his breath. 

Arthur slowed Athena to a stop reluctantly. Before he could dismount, John said, “Wait up a minute. I’ll be right back.” He took off around the building. Arthur watched him go for a moment, puzzled, then took Athena on another slow circuit. When he turned her around John was leading a familiar horse with a golden coat around the building, saddled up. Buell eyed Arthur and whickered loudly. 

“What the hell.” Arthur got off Athena. He walked over to Buell, allowing the big warhorse to sniff at his hands. The horse bumped him in the shoulder, snorting loudly as Arthur patted his neck. “I didn’t see him in the paddock.”

“Yeah, he was in the stables. On account of him biting a couple of stablehands and being an ornery bastard,” John said, grinning. “Charlotte had him sent down quietly.” 

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. He loved his horses. It’d hurt, actually _hurt_ to have Ghost shot out from under him when they’d been fleeing the Pinkertons. He’d been glad that Buell hadn’t been around, that the horse he’d received as a last wish from an old stranger he’d tried to be kind to hadn’t died as well. 

“You sure?” John asked, as Arthur hauled himself heavily onto Buell’s back. Buell braced for his weight with another snort. 

“Now he’s really gonna cry,” Sadie said, grinning broadly. “Aww.”

“Shut up,” John said, with a laugh. He walked over to Athena and got on her back. “If Charlotte doesn't mind me borrowing her horse, how about we head out for a short ride? You got to be getting stir crazy in here.” 

“Hell yeah,” Arthur said. 

The guards didn’t give them a second glance as they rode out of Sunfall on a trot. “This is probably a bad idea,” Arthur said, as they headed down the great sun-browned plain of grass beyond Sunfall. “I ain’t armed.” 

“I am, and you can borrow one of my pistols if you have to.” John grinned at him. “It’s a nice day.”

“Pinkertons could be watching.” Charlotte had told Arthur about the visit. 

“Doubt it. They think you’re dead. Lifted your bounty from Blackwater and Lemoyne. Mine’s still there though. Sadie doesn’t have a bounty. She said that’s gender discrimination.” John laughed. 

“Tell her to take it up with the Pinkertons.” 

“Don’t say it in her earshot, or she probably would.” 

“Got any word from the others?” Arthur asked. 

John sobered up. “No. Not yet. Sadie’s itching to sniff around, but I think she wants to wait here until you’re feeling better.” 

“If the others have gone to ground that’s good,” Arthur said. No need to disturb them and risk breaking their cover. 

“We mean Micah, Arthur. Sadie and I, we want to find Micah,” John said. 

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? He damn near nearly killed you! He’s the reason things turned out the way they did.” 

Arthur shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t think it was all Micah. A lot of it, sure. But. It was Dutch too. And the rest of us. Just let it go. Ain’t nothing good comes out of revenge. He’s a Pinkerton patsy. Killing him is just gonna draw their attention to the area.” 

“I guess.”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘yes, Arthur, I hear you’?” 

“I guess.” John shot him a cheeky smirk as Arthur growled and mimed trying to grab him. “You ain’t in no shape to give me a hiding.” 

“Give that time.” 

“Yeah, well.” John raked a hungry look over him. “If you get well enough to hold me down? I’d rather you’d be doing something else to me than spanking me, just saying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Arthur breathed, as his cock twitched against his thigh.

#

“Pretty sure I’m meant to be taking a bath,” Arthur complained, though he shot John a slow up and down as John locked the door and started to strip down.

“And you are. You’re buck naked in a bathtub. That’s a bath.” John was getting impatient, hauling off boots, tugging off his buckle.

“Yeah, what are you doing here then?” 

“Helping out. Think of me as a temporary nurse.”

Arthur smirked. “A more scarred and sorry looking nurse I never did see.” 

“Ooh, you’re an ungrateful bastard, Arthur Morgan.” Stripped down, John was a real sight. All lean muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. Nice, firm ass. Arthur kneaded it as John settled down in the large tub over him. Arthur flinched as John leaned in for a kiss. “Doctor said it was fine,” John said.

“Really?” Arthur said, skeptical. 

“Infection's from droplets released into the air, he says. Spitting, sneezing, coughing, that kinda thing. But not kissing.” 

“Do I want to know why you had this conversation with him?” Arthur asked, distracted as John’s hands began to trail down his chest. He knew he was thinner than he’d ever been. All the muscle he’d packed on had wasted away over the last year and a half. If the Pinkertons chanced on him on the street, he was fairly sure they probably would walk right by him. 

“He had the conversation with me, actually. Said something or other about how alphas tend to do better when they’re in intimate proximity with their mates,” John said, making a face.

Arthur scowled. “I’m breaking his nose.” 

“No you ain’t. Far as I’m concerned, he worked a goddamned miracle on you.” John leaned in. Arthur turned away from the kiss instinctively, but John kissed him on the cheek, nuzzling down to his throat. He let out a soft gasp as he closed his fingers around Arthur’s cock and felt how hard he already was. 

“Been a while,” Arthur said, in a strangled tone, “so—”

“I want it too,” John breathed. He nudged forward, water sloshing, and groaned as he fed Arthur’s cock inside him with hungry urgency. 

“Shit,” Arthur breathed, trying not to buck up. He gripped the side of the tub tightly. “You’re so fucking tight.” 

“Well, all I’ve had in there for ages is fingers,” John said, breathing harshly as he ground himself slowly down. “Number of nights I got off with my fingers in-inside me, thinking of your knot…”

Arthur let out a strangled noise. Took everything he had just to hold on and wait for John to seat himself fully, not to move. John kissed Arthur’s throat, his shoulders, stroking his hands up and down Arthur’s back. “God. You’ve no idea how happy I am right now.”

“Can guess,” Arthur whispered. He could feel John’s heavy arousal pinned between them. 

“Not just doing this. Just. You’re alive. You’re getting better.” John kissed Arthur’s temple. “Jesus.” He sniffled.

“Hey. Don’t.” Arthur nudged up his hips and John let out a soft yelp. “If you want my cock to stay up? Don’t cry.” 

“I even missed this part about you,” John said dryly, though his voice was steady. “The right bastard.” 

“Just move, Marston. And try not to flood the goddamned place.”

John laughed. He tried to move carefully at first, wary of the water, but after a few awkward attempts to rock against Arthur without spilling water everywhere, John lowered his head with a frustrated groan. “Can we… can we move?” 

“Help me up.” They relocated to the bench near the tub, and both made grateful moans as John sank back down on top of Arthur. It was a better angle, and John had leverage, with a leg braced on the ground and the other tucked against the bench. With Arthur’s back pressed against the wall John rode Arthur roughly, bouncing himself up and down on Arthur’s cock as Arthur hung on to his hips, wishing he was strong enough to shove John up against the tiles. Spread his legs and hold him open for Arthur’s knot. Later. There’d be a later. 

“Already close,” Arthur gasped, apologetic, and John nodded. He sank down, grinding to the root, then hauled himself back up and did it again, again until Arthur snarled and held John down and spilled inside him. Dizzy with euphoria and relief, Arthur leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily as John squirmed on his knot. “You’re a damned treat,” Arthur said, looking John over, committing it to the canvas of memory. John with his devil-may-care grin, his wild, wild eyes. His gorgeous slender waist, that firm ass. _His_. 

“Could say the same of you,” John said, lying, or maybe not. He reached down to touch himself and Arthur grabbed his wrist. He stroked between them instead, rubbing John’s folds until John gasped his name and spilled against Arthur’s belly. 

“Now we need to get cleaned up,” Arthur said, petting John’s thighs as John got settled on top of him. 

“Before or after I suck you off?” John asked, and laughed as Arthur growled and hauled him down for a close-mouthed kiss. 

“Naw,” Arthur said, nuzzling John’s cheek. “You’re probably still bad at that.” 

“Asshole.”

#

“I was this close to punching him in the face as we left,” Arthur said. They broke out into a canter once they were out of Sunfall, heading north.

Charlotte giggled. “That’s why I made sure to stand close by. In case I had to intervene. Don’t be ungrateful.” 

“Ungrateful? I think I possibly threw up my weight in vomit over there. God knows what they used to feed me in the early days,” Arthur said, if without much heat. He was still a little shaky, but he hadn’t coughed for a month. 

Byler had pronounced him tentatively cured, though he’d looked vaguely disappointed about it. “You’re one of my best patients,” he’d said. “You have the constitution of a mule and you don’t try to murder the nurses.” Arthur was grateful, but also itching to get out of there. 

“You’re fine now and that’s what matters,” John said firmly. “So where now? We really gonna head up towards Canada?” 

“That’s where Charles said he is. He offered to meet us once we’re near the border. Show us what’s what. He went up there with the rest of Rains Fall’s tribe, apparently,” Sadie said. 

“Or we could head into Mexico,” John said, grimacing. “I don’t much like the cold, and Canada’s gonna be pretty goddamned cold.” 

“You sure you don’t want us to escort you back to Roanoke Ridge?” Arthur asked Charlotte. She smiled and shook her head. 

“No. I’ll ride with you people for a while. See the world a little. At least until we’re sure the Pinkertons aren’t looking for any of you any longer.” 

“Thank you kindly for that,” John said. Arthur nodded. 

“Not a problem. My, this is fun, isn’t it? Riding out like this. Like we’re all a posse,” Charlotte said brightly.

“The fun wears off eventually,” Arthur told her.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a sourpuss. It never wears off,” Sadie said, leaning in her saddle to clap Arthur hard on the shoulder. “Maybe we should form a new gang. The Adler gang.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the Morgan gang?” John asked loyally. 

Arthur pulled a face. “No.” 

“The ‘Adler’ gang sounds much better. Besides, you boys ain’t much for planning. Or thinking. Or initiative,” Sadie said, eyeballing them both.

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur said. He smiled. This felt like the last piece pulling into place, like the broken pieces of his life forcing themselves back together. Mending, becoming better somehow. 

“Thought we were meant to be lying low still,” John said, though he grinned as well. 

“Pssh, where’s the fun in that. Besides, there’s money to be made in bounties. Legal money. We can’t leech off Charlotte here forever.” 

“Though you’re all welcome to,” Charlotte said, hiding her grin with a hand. 

“Don’t tell them that or they’d get entitled,” Sadie said. 

“Pretty sure I had at least a couple of thousand dollars in my satchel,” Arthur said pointedly. “Wonder where that went?”

“Room and board for all of us, supplies, fine new horses for me, John, and Charlotte… eh. Easy come, easy go,” Sadie said airily. 

“Easy when it’s not your money,” Arthur said, though he couldn’t begrudge any of them any of it. 

“So where are we headed, ma’am?” John nudged his horse closer, reaching over to briefly squeeze Arthur’s palm. Arthur squeezed back. 

“North. For now. We’ll make up a plan as we go,” Sadie said. 

This was the first time for as long as Arthur could remember that he was living outside of someone else’s plan. He breathed deeply, gratefully drinking in the open road. “North it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Yeah TB isn’t cured until the 1900s, but well, near Charlotte’s house you actually help someone achieve AI with a robot, and you can drink meds to walk off gunshot wounds so… idk RDR is really into medical/scientific accuracy haha.  
> \--  
> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent.tumblr.com


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